


Am I My Brother's Keeper? (Or, Will I Let My Friend Smack The Ass I Want?)

by nimiumcaelo



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Confused Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Confused Spock (Star Trek), Funny Conversations, Jealous James T. Kirk, Jealous Spock (Star Trek), M/M, NOT OT3, Strained Friendships, not sure how long this will be, talking about sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

#1

* * *

Jim Kirk woke up suddenly, finding himself on his stomach and tangled in his bedsheets. The edges of his dream were slipping out of grasp. He could barely make out calloused, long fingers and hot breath at his neck, and a certain familiar pressure at his groin. The latter happened to still be there. 

It certainly was not the first time the captain had awoken with a bad case of morning wood and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He scrubbed at his eyes and checked the time on his datapad: 0451, it read. Close enough.

With a slight, wearied sigh, he shoved off the blankets and rose from the bed. While cleaning up, he found himself reminiscing te slippery, warm, and incredibly pleasant dream.Images flashed through his memory like lightning on a hilltop, illuminating the whole scene just for a moment. His hands had glided down someone’s tensed back; fluffy hair tickled at his chin; and if he focused hard enough, he could just make out a face: that of his good friend Doctor McCoy.

Kirk, who had been brushing his teeth, now had to try hard not to choke on the saliva and toothpaste in his mouth. Doctor McCoy?! In a wet dream?! Preposterous. He hadn’t had dreams like that about a friend since his academy days! What was so different about now? Why was thinking about McCoy, lounging in his office chair, legs spread wide and cocky smirk lighting up his face, sending heat between his legs?!

This was ridiculous. Spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing out his toothbrush, Kirk resolved to simply forget about the whole thing. It was no good messing about with friendships on a starship, anyway. With so little chance of getting away from anyone, making things awkward was almost a death sentence. Plus, dear old Bones would only laugh at him. To think that the divorced, hard-ass doctor was giving their captain a hard-on would make the whole crew about die from hysterics.

It was settled, then. 

If only it was easier to forget…

***

Kirk did give it the old college try. In fact, he would say he did just about all he could. Until about 1300 hours, the captain maintained a steady, calm, collected manner and kept his jaw firm and his thoughts pure when he chanced to catch the doctor on the communicators. Spock had given him several hard stares when he thought Kirk couldn’t see, but Spock was Spock. Kirk would be almost insulted if he didn’t notice every slight change of affect in his superior officer. What else was the use of a Vulcan? 

(Too many to count, as Kirk knew better than anyone.)

The big doozy came when the three of them—Kirk, Spock, and McCoy—took a late lunch in Kirk’s quarters. By Earth calendars, it was early in the new year, and by some miracle of biological memory, a good number of the human crew were coming down with common influenza. McCoy, then, had been held up administering vaccinations to anyone and everyone he could. He stuck Kirk and Spock with one each as soon as he entered the room for lunch.

“Gah! Warn a man, Bones!” Kirk hollered, rubbing at the injection site.

McCoy scoffed and stuck Spock with his hypo. “You’re just a big baby, Jim. Spock here ain’t half as bothered, are you, Commander?”

“No, doctor,” Spock said flatly, “though the Captain is more apt to become frightened than I am.”

“Bah, y’all’ll put me in an early grave,” McCoy grumbled, though jovially. 

“Now,” he said, clapping his hands and moving towards the replicator, “What’s the special?”

The three of them all selected foods to their respective palates. Kirk tried to keep his eyes from drifting towards McCoy’s twinkling baby blues; unfortunately, that resulted in him staring rather firmly at Spock’s collar, which was, of course, noticed by said Vulcan. 

“Is there some irregularity in my uniform, Captain?”

Kirk blinked. “No, no, nothing, nothing. Nothing at all, Spock, your uniform is perfect—as usual, of course.” He coughed a little and took a sip of his water. “Nothing amiss.”

McCoy furrowed his brow a little. Spock seemed to take Kirk’s answer with his usual bland acceptance of human illogic. He nodded his head slightly and continued eating. McCoy, however, was not so easy to brush off.

“You alright, there, Jim?” He grinned. “Something on your mind?”

Not that I’d tell, Kirk thought. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he crooned instead, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head.

McCoy laughed. “Now, don’t be coy. I’m sure we’d all love to hear about the lovely girl, wouldn’t we, Spock? Blonde or brunette?”

Before Spock had a chance to object, Kirk went on. “A light brunette.” He waved an arm as if he was painting a picture. “And soft, too. Hands were rough, though. Felt amazing.”

McCoy leaned forward, elbows on the table. Spock appeared constipated, but Kirk could tell he was intrigued in that overly-scientific way of his. Probably cataloguing all of Kirk’s sexual preferences for a study on human social behavior.

“Where’d you meet a gal like that?” McCoy asked, jabbing Spock with his elbow. “We should send _him_ out there.”

Spock seemed less than amused. “I should see no purpose in visiting such a location.”

“Come on now, Spock, there’s gotta be _someone_ out there for you.”

“Vulcan mating patterns differ significantly from those of humans,” Spock deflected simply.

“I never finished describing her,” Kirk pointed out, amused at the direction the conversation was turning, “you might have liked her.”

Spock appeared on the edge of giving a long-suffering sigh, yet restrained. “Highly unlikely, Captain.”

“Hogwash,” McCoy interjected, “There’s gotta be some red blood in you—somewhere.”

Spock said nothing, but the look he gave McCoy was worth a thousand words.

“Anyway,” Kirk drawled, “it was a real hoot.”

“I should join you next time,” McCoy commented.

Kirk’s heart jumped into his throat. Did McCoy know…? It was hard to tell. The doctor’s eyes held their usual joviality, but was that suggestive smile meant to imply what Kirk wanted it to? Kirk laughed it off, forcing the flush off his face. Now was not the time.

“Of course,” he said. His food got rather more interesting all of a sudden.

McCoy sighed. “It has been an _age_ since I buffed the ol’ pipe.”

Kirk swallowed hard.

“I was not aware you had experience in plumbing, Doctor,” Spock commented.

McCoy grinned, “Oh, I know my way around some plumbing, Mr. Spock. Just not the kind you’re thinking of.”

Spock furrowed his brows slightly. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

“He means sex, Spock,” Kirk choked out, trying his darnedest to sound unaffected.

“The old after dinner mint,” added McCoy.

“Mint?”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Forget about it, Spock. Obviously it’s not in your _programming_.”

For the briefest second, Spock seemed upset about something, but his usual smooth and indifferent expression returned before Kirk had time to notice. The captain was paying rather more attention to a certain friend who had decided to visit and who he was trying to will away.

***

That evening, Kirk was faced with the same predicament he had been that morning. His mind was spinning with possibilities. It wasn’t bad enough that he was questioning his _own_ attraction, but now he was stuck wondering about _McCoy’s_. 

It was common knowledge that the good doctor preferred the fairer sex. He was also the type toflirt with anyone who’d let him, though. The countless times he and Kirk had fallen asleep on the same couch, waking up early in the Academy and sitting quietly over coffee, sharing soft smiles to remind themselves that there was someone familiar in this big, wide nowhere—they all flashed before Kirk’s brown eyes.

Anticipating a night of tossing and turning, Kirk resignedly went to bed.

#2

* * *

Commander Spock didn’t sleep much, he never had. He found it almost a blessing to still be awake and alert during the ship’s quietest moments. Usually, it gave him a chance to slow down and sort through all the alien interactions he had participated in that day, interactions that were really quite draining in the emotional sense. While he had had years to accommodate himself to this loud, sensory-heavy conversational style, Spock would still find himself distracted and harried if he didn’t take the time to meditate every evening and enjoy the stillness and the lack of uncontrolled sensation.

The Starfleet Uniform, given that it was designed primarily by and for humans, was incredibly uncomfortable for Spock to wear for extended periods of time. The material was rough and left him with chafing at his armpits and groin. Removing it and slipping into his robe was a nearly euphoric experience. 

Meditation didn’t come easy for him this evening; he had much to unpack. Dr. McCoy’s turns of phrase were usually quite confusing, but his behaviors towards Spock today were even more so. He was used to the doctor speaking freely about vulgar topics in front of him. Usually, however, he spent more time expressing doubt about Spock’s expressed disinterest. From the way McCoy usually responded to him, Spock had been under the impression that the topic of sexual relations was, for humans, a type of game. One party expressed interest, the other expressed disinterest, and by continuing to persuade the disinterested party, the interested party eventually was able to engage in copulation with the originally disinterested party. By dutifully behaving disinterested in sexuality, Spock had been anticipating McCoy’s continued pressuring of him until, in due course, the two personalities would come to a head and copulation would occur.

Why had McCoy swayed so far from the prescribed course?

#1

* * *

“Captain.”

“Yes, Spock?”

“May I speak with you on a private matter?”

Kirk checked the clock. 

“Yes, if it’s not too long. What is it? Something wrong?”

Spock had come to Kirk’s quarters that morning half an hour before their shift was to start, shoulders full of unspoken tension.

“I have questions regarding human courtship.”

Kirk managed to swallow his coffee without choking. One of the many small blessings of having taken Starfleet diplomacy courses in the Academy.

“Questions?”  
“Yes.”

Kirk set his cup down. “What type of questions? That’s quite a broad subject, Spock. Were you interested in the how’s and why’s or the who’s and what’s?”

Spock paused, evidently untangling Kirk’s words. “I am interested in how humans indicate they are ready for copulation and desire it.”

Typical, Kirk thought. He mentions one hypothetical night out and now Spock is writing a research paper on it.

“Well,” Kirk began, “usually one party will proposition the other and the party that has been propositioned lets the original party know whether or not they can hit—uh—have sex.”

“Is this a verbal communication?”

“Usually it involves words, but a great deal of the communication is also bodily. For instance, if a pretty girl bats her eyes at me and bites her lip—well. Somebody’s gonna do something.”

Spock furrowed his brows. “How does one indicate sexual readiness to one specific party?”

“Oh, that _does_. It’s all a matter of who you’re looking at.”

“Fascinating. Highly illogical, yet fascinating.”

“I suppose it is, isn’t it? Sure as hell doesn’t always work out.”

“No?”

Kirk snorted. “Fuck no. You can be giving someone _all_ the signs and they might just not pick up. Sometimes they genuinely don’t understand, and sometimes they just don’t care or don’t want to. It’s most frustrating when you’ve been giving signals and you _think_ they’ve been giving ‘em back—but you’re wrong and they haven’t been.”

“The possibility of miscommunication is staggering. How does one ever truly know?”

“Well, for that, you’ve gotta be direct. If you’ve been laying it all down and you can’t tell whether the other person is picking it up, just ask—straight up.”

“Straight up?” Spock repeated, confused. 

“Blunt. Ask them if they wanna go back to your place and have a little fun. Or, you could even just ask if they’ll let you hit it.”

“Is violence customary in human sexual encounters?”

Kirk laughed. “It means have sex, Spock.”

“Fascinating.”

#3

* * *

McCoy was still tied up inoculating everyone he could from fucking influenza. Why the hell did they let people go to space if they hadn’t had their vaccinations? It was ridiculous.

Around 1500 hours he took a break and let Nurse Chapel take the reins for a bit. He holed himself up in his office and closed the blinds. A nap sounded mighty fine right about now.

Unfortunately, someone chose that moment to knock on his office door. Curse Chapel—she was supposed to keep people away when his door was shut. Grumbling as he rose on aching feet, McCoy went to the door and opened it to find Spock standing there, looking mighty determined.

“What do you want?” McCoy frowned.

Spock blinked. He kept blinking. McCoy was getting concerned.

“Something in your eye, Mr. Spock? Sit down.”

Spock did so, wordlessly, and kept blinking. As he sat down, he started to worry at his lip. What was wrong with him? Hopefully not that stupid flower again. 

“Spock, talk to me,” McCoy ordered. “What’s going on? Are you feeling funny?” He placed a hand on Spock’s forehead. “What’s your name, rank?”

The Commander finally spoke, but it wasn’t at all what McCoy expected.

In a flat monotone, he said, “Wanna go back to my place and have a little fun.”

McCoy stared.

Spock blinked some more.

“Uh,” McCoy choked. He tried waiting for Spoke to say anything more, but the Vulcan gave him no such respite. 

“ _What?_ ” He spat, eventually.

Spock squared his shoulders. “Will you let me hit it.”

The universe had been too cruel to McCoy today. Not only was it keeping him from his nap, but it kept bombarding him with lame-ass pick-up lines spoken by a monotone Vulcan. Was his humiliation ever going to end?

“How much did Jim pay you?”

Spock frowned. “Nothing.”

“What did he promise then? A lifetime free of the cranky doctor in exchange for driving him off the deep end? _What_ , Spock?”

“I am afraid you misunderstand me,” Spock replied. “I was merely intimating that I wished to join you in copulation.”  
“Yes, yes, you made that quite clear. I’m simply trying to figure out how Jim got you to do it.”

“The Captain did not make me do anything. I came to him for advice on human courting rituals.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Bullshit.”

“There was no fecal matter involved, Doctor. I went to the Captain to ascertain how best to invite you to engage in coitus with me. If my invitation is unwelcome, I will leave.”

It took a great deal of strength for McCoy to keep his jaw up. “Are you shitting me?”

Spock, getting rather annoyed at this point, repeated that there had been no fecal matter involved.

McCoy, in shock, floated down to sit on the edge of his desk. _What the fuck?!_

_“What the fuck?!”_ He shouted.


	2. Chapter 2

#1

Kirk was downright shocked. Appalled, even. Definitely concerned.

It was five minutes past the start of Spock’s shift. Where the hell was he?

He had comm’ed Spock’s quarters already and he wasn’t there. Perhaps he was ill?

The communicator rang once, then Nurse Chapel answered.

“Captain. How may I help you?”

“Nurse, is Spock down there?”

“Ye-es,” she said nervously, “he and Doctor McCoy are in the Doctor’s office.”

“Is he alright? He hasn’t reported for his shift.”

Someone in the background shouted and Nurse Chapel looked back, then returned her worried gaze to the communicator. “I don’t know, Captain, but they seem to be arguing.” 

Kirk sighed. “Thank you, Nurse. I’ll be down there shortly. Kirk out.”

#3

McCoy was still silent and motionless by the time Kirk blasted into the room.

“What’s the matter with you?” He shouted at Spock, who had been morosely staring at the doctor’s knee for some time. “You should’ve been on the bridge ten minutes ago! Chekov’s been waiting since 1500 hours.”

“I apologize, Captain,” Spock said tersely, “I was waiting for an answer.”

“I don’t care what you’re waiting for, your duties are your duties. I’m shocked at you, Spock. You’ve never done this before—ever!”

Spock nodded his head in acquiescence. “I am aware, Captain. It was an unforgivable lapse. I accept whatever punitive action you deem necessary.”

“I hope there was a damn good reason for this, Spock.”

“There was, Captain. I was waiting for a reply from Doctor McCoy.”

Kirk turned to stare at McCoy.

“Don’t drag me into this!” McCoy glowered. “That was all you, you pointed-eared Vulcan!”

Spock bowed his head slightly and said nothing.

“What are you talking about?” Kirk asked. “What was he doing?”

McCoy fidgeted. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Bones,” Kirk warned.

“No, really, Jim— _it doesn’t matter_.”

Kirk frowned. “Bones, as your captain—“

“Okay, okay, no need to pull that card, _Captain_.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “Mr. Spock here was just attempting to proposition me, that’s all.”

McCoy watched as Kirk turned nearly purple. 

“Excuse me?” He ground out, eventually, staring daggers at Spock.

“Mr. Spock,” McCoy sighed, “was trying to get me to go to bed with him, _Captain_.”

Spock, during this time, had simply stood there, indicating nothing with his expression or body language. He continued to do so until Kirk turned away and huffed at him to get up on the bridge or so help him God, at which point Spock left the premises.

Kirk then turned to McCoy.

“He propositioned you?” He hissed.

_Dear Lord, give me strength_.

“Yes, Jim, he asked me to sleep with him. I’m as shocked as you are.”

“And what did you say?”

McCoy wanted to tell him it was none of his business, but didn’t want to start a fight.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Kirk seemed like he wanted to say something more, but wasn’t sure of himself. He shifted on his feet and glowered at the floor.

“Are you gonna say something or are you gonna burn a hole in my carpet for another ten minutes?” McCoy groused.

Kirk’s expression shifted minutely. With a little pouting of his lower lip and just the right amount of defeat in his eyes, he morphed from a glowering captain indignant of workplace romance to the boy next door watching the popular girl talk to him about the guy on the football team. 

McCoy was not immune to this plea for sympathy, not at all. He sighed and gestured for Kirk to sit down.

“I guess he beat me to it, huh,” Kirk mumbled.

_Oh dear Lord above, have sympathy on a poor man!_

“What?”

Kirk shot him a look that said _You know what I mean_.

McCoy pinched his nose. “Get out.”

“Bones, wait—“

“No, I’m tired, I’m busy, and I’m sick of you all playing this joke on me! It’s not funny, God dammit—it’s not!”

McCoy shoved an embarrassed Kirk out the door and sat down, resting his forehead on his desk. He could feel a headache coming on in waves. 

#2

Spock paid no attention to Kirk while they were on the bridge. The Captain was frustrated and Spock was prudent. Besides, Uhura kept up a steady flow of conversation and Chekov had miscalculated several important variables, so he was kept quite busy.

Kirk refrained from contacting MedBay at all during his shift, atypical behavior, given the time of year. 

Spock could feel eyes on the side of his head, but he kept his gaze forward. It was none of the Captain’s business what he did in his private life. Certainly, Kirk would take no one else’s advice in that sphere of life, despite frequently giving Spock pointers on “getting some.” Indeed, why was Kirk so against Spock putting Kirk’s advice to use? Perhaps he hadn’t been serious. 

That, or… 

Spock cast a glance at Kirk while the Captain was engaged in conversation with Sulu. There was frustration there, yes, but the frustration was made up quite a bit of _sexual_ frustration. 

Fascinating, yes, but also irksome. The Captain was exceptionally versed in human courtship and Spock would be no match for him if he put his mind to it. If Spock was to get anywhere with the Doctor, he would need to neutralize his opponent. It was the only way.

*** 

That evening, Spock called on Kirk in his quarters. When the door slid open, Kirk’s eyes immediately narrowed. 

“Spock. What are you doing here?”

Spock stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize for earlier, Captain. My behavior was unprofessional and remiss. I have come with a traditional Vulcan gift of apology—” he held up a small box, “If I would be allowed in…?”

Kirk’s expression melted as he stepped aside and led Spock in. He was obviously flattered. “Yes, yes, of course, Spock. I apologize, too. I was really too rude to you, earlier.”

“It is of no consequence, Captain,” Spock replied, sitting beside Kirk on the Captain’s sofa. He handed Kirk the box.

“You really didn't have to do this, Spock,” Kirk said, smiling at his friend. “I’d accept an apology from you without a gift.”

“It is traditional, Captain,” Spock stated bluntly, giving no further explanation.

Kirk seemed to accept the answer, thankfully forgetting all the other times Spock had apologized to him without gift. He opened the box and started coughing, head whipping to stare frightened at Spock.

“What did you put in this?” He garbled, choking on his own saliva. 

“Nothing overly toxic, Captain. A simple aerosol sedative for humans.” He gracefully stood and avoided Kirk’s sloppy grasping at his person.

The Captain growled and heaved himself to his feet, swaying greatly—he lunged for Spock, who avoided—and fell. Spock caught him before he landed on the floor. He set the Captain in his bed and left the room, taking the box with him.

***

Spock hurried to McCoy’s room.

#3

After such a tiring day, McCoy wanted nothing but to shower and sleep. He had much to process. Tossing his uniform on the floor, he crawled into the shower—a water shower, because he needed the heat.

It had been such a very long time since he had been with someone else. He had, of course, _done it_ since he and his wife separated—he’s not a hermit, after all—but there was still some longing in him for the _right_ person. After feeling the union of love and pleasure wrapped up in another person, how could you ever think of sex as casual again? He had tried to, for sure, but it just wasn’t satisfying. He could get off quicker and with less guilt in his stomach if he just did it himself.

That was not to say he hadn’t found anyone attractive since his wife, either. That was certainly not the case. Jim wasn’t the only one who could romance these alien women. Something about how exotic they were, it really turned him on. Somehow, it felt less like cheating on her if he did it with a non-human.

That brought Spock to his mind, and he groaned. Why had Spock suddenly turned from such a stone into a warm, dynamic, and, most pertinently, _sexual_ being? And why had he gone after McCoy? 

The Doctor sighed and turned off the water. This was too much thinking for one night.

His door pinged as he stepped into the bedroom area. He answered the door clothed, but with his hair still wet.

It was Spock.

“Doctor,” he greeted. “I appear to have come at a ‘bad time.’”

McCoy sighed, really not wanting to have this conversation. “No, no, Spock, come on in.”

He led Spock inside and sat the both of them on the small regulation sofa. He could feel his gut clenching. Nerves like these hadn’t hit him since his first time in spaceflight. It was a primal thing—not the anxiety of young lovers about to kiss. This fear curdled in his lower abdomen and spread like ice into his upper thighs. He was standing before a domesticated beast; Spock could very well rip him limb from limb if he found it logical enough. 

He needed to tread lightly.

#2

Spock was aware of many unpleasant physical symptoms attempting to break through his mental control. Breathing deeply, he steadied his heart rate.

Fearful of retribution, Spock carefully kept his legs from touching McCoy’s. He knew he had made McCoy upset earlier, in McCoy’s office. The Doctor was most likely going to reprimand Spock, as the Captain had done earlier, and threaten him with physical harm. It wasn’t getting attacked that scared Spock; rather, it was the thought of losing one of the only friendships he had successfully nurtured in his entire life. Without the pleasant warmth of McCoy’s fond thoughts about him circling his head throughout the day, Spock’s time aboard the Enterprise would be significantly less enjoyable.

It was time to do anything he could to make it up to McCoy. Spock cast his mind about, recalling Old Earth Literature and romantic plots therein. What was the main character to do after carelessly offending his swain? 

He reached out, clasped McCoy to his chest, and kissed him in the human style.

Immediately, McCoy pushed Spock off. Spock recoiled at the heat of McCoy’s repugnance and fury. 

“What the hell, Spock?!”

Spock stamped down hard on bubbling feelings of inadequacy and shame.

“I asked you a question, you God-damned Vulcan! I’m sick and tired of you two playing me for a fool! How much did he bet you, huh? How fucking much?” McCoy set his jaw and turned to stare at the wall. Spock could sense burgeoning fear and self-loathing. “I would appreciate a bit more respect from you, Commander. You may leave.”

Spock, defeated and shocked, stood, and left. The door closed quietly behind him. He walked quickly back to his own quarters, hurrying lest any evidence of emotion show on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited this like a bajillion times cos i could never make it totally right


	3. Cancelled Until Further Notice

Sorry, but I actually started a different Spones fic and am working on that one pretty constantly right now. It's gonna be a long one (about 22k words) and I've just really lost the motivation for this one.

Again, sorry if you were expecting an update!

Creativity is a finicky creature.


End file.
